


Bound to Happen

by copernicusjones



Series: Fraeger Propaganda [2]
Category: Harvest Moon and Story of Seasons Series (Video Games), 牧場物語つながる新天地 | Story of Seasons (Video Game 2014)
Genre: (extremely light and kind of silly tbh), (it starts in the kitchen but we know Raeger won't allow that to go down), (sort of), Coitus Interruptus, Developing Relationship, Hand Jobs, Kitchen Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Porn With Plot, Relationship Discussions, Sexual Humor, but if you want Fraeger ~development~ that's what i've got, mentions of Annie/Mistel, so if you've come for only porn you'll be disappointed, the summary makes it sound porn-heavy but there's a lot of exploration of their relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23581357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copernicusjones/pseuds/copernicusjones
Summary: All Fritz wants is to help his boyfriend make a birthday dinner for their best friend.…Raegerishis boyfriend, isn't he?Whatever Fritz is to Raeger, it's nothing short of exasperating, as Raeger finds he needs to literally tie Fritz down to keep him out of the kitchen.  But it doesn't keep Raeger out of Fritz's pants... quite the opposite, really...[Sequel to "It's What's Underneath that Counts"]
Relationships: Fritz/Raeger (Story of Seasons)
Series: Fraeger Propaganda [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1429435
Comments: 19
Kudos: 28





	Bound to Happen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yorunoangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yorunoangel/gifts).



> You would need to read "It's What's Underneath That Counts" to understand the context of what's gone on already between the boys but it's not completely necessary to follow the story.

There were so many things in life Fritz loved, and if he were to rattle them all off, he'd start with friends, food, birthdays, and Raeger. Not in that order, though. There was no order; Fritz didn't like to play favorites (except for Raeger—he was Fritz's number one most favorite thing).

And so getting the chance to help Raeger set up a birthday meal—heck, a whole birthday _party_ —for one of their best friends… everything he loved, and more, intersecting to create one amazing day? Count him in!  
  
He'd just assumed that helping make a birthday dinner for Annie would involve more of... well, actually making the _meal_.  
  
Nope. For the past hour he'd done nothing but blow up balloons, cut streamers, glue glitter and stick stickers. Raeger had been hard at work in the kitchen, preparing everything Annie had requested—plus a little surprise to top it all off.

The day had been far from awful, especially given Fritz's propensity to louse things up. Nothing had been broken, ripped, or accidentally glued together. He'd only popped one balloon, and though the forecast had been calling for light rain, he'd avoided it during his quick dash to the depot, to buy more butter for the baklava.  
  
Plus, Raeger was here! Lookin' like a dish himself as he focused intently while chopping, slicing and stirring his way through Annie's meal. Fritz would have been content to watch him the whole way through, from the first batch of shelled walnuts being spread over phyllo dough to where he was at now, shredding a block of cheese to go over the roasted veggies and beaten eggs that would soon be baked into an omelette. It was mesmerizing, how Rae made it all look so effortless, and Fritz wished he could be in the kitchen with him. Learning and (hopefully) helping in equal measure, as he had all through Winter.  
  
Fritz taped up one last spiral-y streamer to the window frame, then hopped down from the stool he'd been kneeling on. Most people had to ask permission to enter Raeger's kitchen, but Fritz was _not_ most people (as Rae liked to remind him). So he strolled on over, humming a happy tune to himself as he made his way to the sink.  
  
“What are you doing back here?” Raeger asked, not looking up as he sprinkled some herbs across the omelette-to-be.  
  
“Just washin' up!” Fritz showed off his gloveless hands, which were dotted with purple glitter, then stuck them under the running faucet. He couldn't resist from commenting on the warm, sweet aroma of honey drifting over from the baklava cooling off on the counter. “Mmmm, smells amazing! You could give Klaus a run for his money if you bottle this scent up. Whaddya think?”  
  
Raeger's laser-like focus cracked into a light smile, a soft puff of a laugh. “I'll stick with cooking, thanks.”  
  
“No, no, it'd be great!” Fritz shook his hands dry and sidled up alongside Raeger, throwing an arm over his shoulder even as Raeger used a huge grinder to shower the omelette with black pepper. His free hand acted to punctuate his idea. “I got it! 'Ee-ww de honey-nut!'”  
  
“'Eau'?” Raeger asked, sliding a questioning side-eye Fritz's way.  
  
“Yeah! That!” Fritz pulled away, giving Raeger space to open the oven and push the omelette pan in. He plucked up the egg timer from the stovetop, poised to turn it to the correct time. “What says the master chef? How long's this baby gotta bake for?”  
  
“Forty-five minutes. And please don't use the words 'baby' and 'bake' together in the same sentence ever again.”  
  
“Aye-aye!” Fritz saluted and all but slammed the timer back where it belonged. “So what's next? T-minus one hour until Annie gets here, right?”  
  
“Yeah, just about. You're done with all the decorations, then?”  
  
“Pretty much! I guess I could blow up some more balloons but everything else is lookin' good. See!” Fritz swung an arm out to display the restaurant—as if Raeger could possibly miss the transformation it'd undergone. “How'dya like it? Pretty snazzy if I do say so myself.”  
  
Raeger's eyes roved the entirety of the restaurant, where very little of the walls remained visible, from the bobbing balloons and wispy streamers covering almost every available inch. The only spot not predominantly filled with either of these was the northern wall, above the long, built-in counter. Instead, a giant banner hung slightly askew, reading “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” (Fritz had miscalculated how much space he needed before he started writing the announcement in thick streaks of permanent marker.)  
  
“It... has your signature flair to it.”  
  
“Awesome!”  
  
“But you know, you didn't... _have_ to use all the decorations in the packs. Usually they're sold to be enough for more than one occasion.”  
  
“Or one big one,” Fritz countered. “And this is a big one—it's for Annie!”  
  
“Can't argue there,” Raeger said, rinsing off the knives he'd dirtied from chopping veggies. “Guess there isn't much left for you to do then. Why don't you kick back and relax for a bit while I finish the rest of her meal up?”  
  
Fritz frowned slightly. “Why would I do that? It wouldn't be fair if you kept on workin' and I just sat here like a bump on a log. Lemme help!”  
  
“That's what you've literally spent the whole afternoon doing. If you wanna keep an eye on the timer—”  
  
“I'm not spending forty-five minutes starin' at an egg! I can run to the depot if you think you need more butter or flour or—!”  
  
“You know, I feel like you're forgetting I'm holding a knife.” Raeger raised his hand to display the paring knife, glistening clean.  
  
“Haha, you're so funny, Rae! I know you'd never stab me—on purpose, anyway.”  
  
“Stab, no. Now, slice and dice...” Raeger studied the knife, as if he were actually considering it. After Fritz's indignant _Hey_! of a response, he wandered further down, where a pot full of potatoes had been soaking for several hours.  
  
Fritz followed, but the baklava drew his attention away, and he stopped in front of it as he kept talking to Raeger. “Ooh, I know! I still gotta wrap my gift for Annie; how 'bout I wrap yours too!”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Raeger asked, removing the potatoes and patting them dry, one-by-one. “ _My_ gift?”  
  
“Your gift! Whatever you got for her,” Fritz continued, looking between Raeger and the baklava. “You might not believe this, but I do a bang-up job of wrapping—I can even put a nifty bow on it!  
  
“I didn't 'get' her anything. What do you think all this is?” He vaguely waved at the cluster of potatoes he'd just dried, at the egg-splattered mixing bowl and walnut shells littering the kitchen counter. “I closed the restaurant early just so I could prepare a private birthday dinner for her. I think that's pretty gift-y. I even used _her_ recipe—Fritz, _please_ don't touch that. It hasn't cooled yet.”  
  
Glumly, Fritz withdrew his hand from the flaky dessert. “You're gonna get _me_ something though, aren't you?”

Fritz's birthday was less than a week away, and he was dying to see what Raeger would put together for it. Something special, he hoped, similar to how they'd spent the Starlight Gala: cooking together, conversation over dinner—nothing terribly different than how it'd been for a few years now. Except the part _after_ dinner, where Raeger was adamant they needed to tidying up, but quickly decided it could wait until the next day when Fritz had effectively dashed any hope of cleaning by pushing Raeger up against the wall by the stairs, kissing him like Raeger was the dessert course, not the lemon tarts he'd shoveled down.  
  
“I don't know what you need for your farm, really.” Raeger had started methodically peeling the potatoes, their skins coming off in long, even strips. “But I could do the same as I'm doing for Annie: a three-course meal, whatever you'd like.”  
  
“Hey, that's what you said last year, in that card you sent me—and that you were too busy to do all that, so the card would have to do!”  
  
“Last year was...” Raeger paused, so briefly Fritz thought he'd imagined it. Then, began peeling again. “Different. Than this year. Besides, you could even help me, and then I don't have any excuse about being 'too busy'.”

“Then why can't I help now? It'd be good practice, and—”  
  
Raeger stopped in full this time, rounding on Fritz, potato peeler brandished. “Because this is _my_ dinner. It's our _party_ , sure, and I'm really grateful you were down for doing all these decorations and what-not, because that's not something I'm any good at, and you like it, and you brought your A-game.”  
  
Fritz nodded, simply to acknowledge he was listening; it took everything in him not to reply, to beg once more, because he could tell from Raeger's posture, the intensity in his eyes, that he had more to say.  
  
Which he did. “But you asked me, what am I giving Annie for her birthday? And it's this meal. From _me_ , not from _us_. I've been wanting to do this for her for a while, now. Before we ever—” Again, he wouldn't say it out loud, but Fritz knew what he was referring to. “For a while. So I'm gonna.”  
  
Fritz huffed in frustration through his nose. He didn't understand at all! He and Rae were dating—or that's how Fritz saw it; Raeger was the one always dodging discussion of labeling what was between them. But here Raeger wanted to go all out for Annie himself, then rope Fritz into helping with his own birthday dinner next week? Fritz didn't _mind_ cooking with Raeger—honestly, there were very few things he truly enjoyed as much—but it was the principle of it all!  
  
Fritz would forever think of Raeger as his best friend, and he hoped Raeger would too, but he just really wished that Raeger would start seeing him—and treating him, outside of the bedroom—like his boyfriend, too.  
  
Raeger went back to the potatoes, and Fritz, feeling outrageously awkward, tried to think of something to melt the tension that had thickened. “Betcha never guess what I got Annie, though,” he said with a forced smile.  
  
It wasn't so forced once Raeger replied, much calmer than he had been just moments ago. “As long as it's not that singing fish wall plaque you gave me for _my_ birthday, then—”  
  
“You said you wanted to inject some personality into the restaurant! It sang _three_ different songs, Rae; most of those suckers only sing one!”  
  
“Oh, well, when you put it _that_ way...”  
  
“It would've been perfect for Fish Fry Fridays!”  
  
“It was also only five G at the Trade Depot, wasn't it?”  
  
“That's not the point! I could've gotten you nothing at all. You know, if I ever move in here with you, that thing's going up in our room and—”  
  
“ _What_ did you get Annie, Fritz?”  
  
“This!” Fritz hurried over to the built-in counter, where the small, black box rest atop it. “Look!” he said, rushing back to Raeger and all but sticking it in his face. Raeger craned his head back, an attempt to avoid it as if Fritz was trying to force a glass of wine down his throat.  
  
“Okay, shit. Calm down.” Raeger set the potato peeler aside and took the box from Fritz. He spared him a curious glance, like he already had an idea of what the box contained, then cracked it open. A silver band set with a gleaming emerald winked back at him. “A _ring_? Are you freaking serious, you got Annie a _ring_?”  
  
“Yeah, 'cept I didn't _get_ it for her, I made it! I had to sneak into her sewing studio the other night and stay there 'til morning, but it was worth it. It's to match those earrings Mistel got her for Christmas.”  
  
Raeger snapped the box shut and shoved it back at Fritz. “I don't think you should be giving her something like this.”

“Haha, what's wrong?” Fritz pocketed the ring into his vest. “You jealous?”  
  
“No. I just think it's a terrible idea to give a girl _friend_ jewelry, especially if her actual boyfriend got her something similar not too long ago. It just doesn't look... appropriate.”  
  
“Annie knows we're just friends! And Mistel isn't stupid, he wouldn't really think I'd try to snatch his woman.”  
  
“No, he's not stupid, but..” Raeger seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I guess, just... what would you think if Annie gave me something like that?”  
  
Fritz took the question to heart, even though his kneejerk reaction was to say he wouldn't give a hoot, because he knew Annie and Rae were just friends. But honestly, what _would_ he think? Especially right now, as things were, without Raeger showing willingness to move the relationship forward, to something that had a name, and that wasn't a secret.  
  
“I'd ask her how she knew your ring size, and if she could tell me!”  
  
“Fritz...” Despite himself, Raeger was holding back a smile. So his tone was hardly harsh when he added, “You really suck at relationships, don't you?”  
  
“I'm not doing half-bad with you!” _Am I?_ He didn't ask that part aloud, partially because he couldn't bear it if he was, and partially because it'd be even worse if Raeger denied them being in a relationship to begin with.  
  
Fritz was the first to admit he was completely clueless—and Raeger was usually the first to agree with him. But that was the thing—how _was_ Fritz supposed to know how he was doing, if Raeger wouldn't talk to him about it? He wasn't super experienced with this kind of thing—definitely not to the degree Raeger was. He liked to _think_ he was doing a pretty respectable job when it came to being Raeger's boyfriend, considering how much fun they had fooling around and cooking, eating together. It'd been over a season now, though, and he was growing anxious simply _thinking_ it.  
  
He wanted to be certain.  
  
“True,” Raeger conceded, smirk crooking up. “I've had worse.”  
  
It wasn't exactly the vote of confidence Fritz was aiming for, but he had his old Rae back, the one who reserved his teasing for Fritz and Fritz alone. Well, and for (according to Annie, who was always good at digging up the dirt) whoever he was romantically interested in. Which, again, was (hopefully) Fritz, and Fritz alone.  
  
“Look, I know you think I'm just joshin' you when I talk about helpin' out, but I really do like cooking with you!” Slowly, Fritz made his way back to Raeger's side, picking up errant potato peels that had missed the bowl being used to collect them. “And, sure, it's great spendin' time together and stuff, but, y'know, you're a good teacher too... and I learn better through OJT than anything else, so... c'mon, Raeger. Please?”

“I like cooking with you too,” Raeger said evenly, peeling the last of the potatoes. “And like I said, we can do that for your birthday dinner. But—”  
  
Fritz didn't need to hear anymore. “Too damn bad!” Without even seeing Raeger's reaction, Fritz started grabbing for everything in sight that needed to be washed, or trash to be thrown away. A yolk-coated whisk went sailing into the sink, along with various measuring cups and a pot sticky with the baklava's honey sauce. Most of the walnut shells ended up in the trash but a handful scattered to the floor, and half that into the sink, joining the potato peels that had fallen amid Fritz's outburst.  
  
“Fritz, what the hell!” Potato thrown aside, Raeger was immediately up against Fritz, trying to tear his hands away from the sink. Dishes clanged around in it as Fritz tried to plug the drain. “Goddess, you're gonna clog it!”  
  
“No, I'm not! I'm not an idiot, Rae, I know how to do dishes!” Fritz reached to switch on the faucet, but his hand was clamped over by one of Raeger's—a very filmy one, covered in starch. “Ack, get your nasty tater hands offa me!”  
  
He struggled against Raeger, attempting to push him away with his elbows. Fritz was stronger than Raeger—years spent tending to a farm would do that—but Raeger's irritation gave him an advantage. Only able to let out a helpless “ _Gah_!", Fritz found himself spun around with both his wrists being forced behind his back, Raeger's arms encircling him.  
  
“Get out of my kitchen, Fritz.” Raeger's tone made Fritz glad he wasn't wielding that knife he'd had earlier. As if to punctuate his point, the stack of dishes ruptured, the pot making an ugly metallic _scrang_! as it tumbled.  
  
Still, Fritz couldn't keep from lashing back; as Raeger often pointed out, he didn't know when to quit. “Can't if you're pinning me down like this with your gross potato paws.”  
  
“Do you want attention, Fritz? Is that it? Because here's the thing: this is a birthday dinner for _Annie_ , but you're making it more about me and you.” He lowered his voice, and added, “About... _us_.”  
  
“Yeah, I do,” Fritz said, completely honest. “I want more attention from you—real attention, that doesn't have to do with us touchin' each others' dicks. I get it, we're screwin' around, and—"  
  
“Don't talk about it like—”  
  
“Why not?! That's what we're doin', and I'll say it hundred times over, 'cause it's true!”  
  
Something flared in Raeger's eyes. Not anger, but... hurt? Fritz felt his stomach drop out—he'd never hurt Raeger, never even try! But there was Raeger's head dipping, shoulders slouching; the disappointment was palpable, like it was the absolute worst thing he could've heard.  
  
“I didn't mean that I _see_ it like that, but it's what's goin' on.” Goddess, he wished he could lift his hand up, touch it to Raeger's cheek; show that, for all his frustration at the situation, he couldn't stay mad at Raeger. “And it's changed a lotta things between us. Including my kitchen privileges. But what I really want is for it to change what I am to you.”  
  
“I know...” Although he didn't sound like he altogether did. “Trust me, Fritz, I know. But it's not that easy.”  
  
There was more Raeger wasn't telling him, wasn't opening up about. And Fritz, as impatient as he was about _everything_ , was willing to give Raeger the time and space he needed to find the words, the courage, to speak up. But that was only with the condition that Raeger _wanted_ to at some point. As much as Fritz loved him, he couldn't bring himself to allow Raeger's insecurities to take control. Way before he and Raeger even got together—actually, it was when Eda passed away—Fritz made up his mind to not only do his best, but to always do _better_ than the day before. And that's all he wanted in return from Raeger.  
  
“Aw, sure it is.” Fritz was smiling now, hoping to lighten the mood—not that he didn't still care about helping make dinner, he just cared about Raeger more. “If you don't wanna call me your boyfriend—” he paused, waiting for Raeger to wince. But he didn't, which was ginormous progress. “I can just be your... your taste tester! Yeah, that's _definitely_ me!”  
  
“Sounds good to me.” Raeger laughed quietly, his hold around Fritz turning more into an embrace. “It means you can look, and taste, but not touch.”  
  
Foiled again! “Hey, no, wait! That's not what I was goin' for. How 'bout I'm your... your soo-uss chef? You know, your second-in-command, your subordinate, your—"

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I don't think so,” Raeger cut him off, brows disappearing up behind his bangs.  
  
“You _don't_ want me to be your soo-uss chef?”  
  
“ _Sous_ chef,” Raeger pronounced it with one syllable—presumably, the correct way. “And no, because this kitchen isn't designed for two people, and—”  
  
“False!” Fritz interrupted. “You told me yourself you'd always help your grandpa out in here when you were little.”  
  
“Alright, this kitchen isn't designed for two people when one of them is hopelessly klutzy.”  
  
Fritz bit back a grin, rocked up on his toes slightly to bring his face closer to Raeger's. “What about when one of them is hopelessly twitterpated by the other, huh?”  
  
He didn't give Raeger time to think of a response. His lips were on Raeger's, corners curled into a smile the whole time. Everything about Raeger made Fritz so _giddy_ , like he could take on the world and then some. He'd fight Annie and Giorgio and Elise; he'd fight the vendors and out-of-town contestants; heck, he'd even fight his own dang self if it meant another day when he could come bursting into the restaurant to be met with the aroma of a home-cooked meal and Raeger's warm smile greeting him.  
  
Raeger broke away, face a bit pinker—and happier—than it'd been before the kiss. “Maybe I can consider it, for next time. Figure out a system.”  
  
“I'm not thinkin' about next time. I'm thinking about now.” Fritz bobbed his eyebrows, implying he hadn't given up just yet. “You're underestimatin' the lengths I'll go to persuade you.”  
  
“No, Fritz, I know _plenty_ well how far you'll—”  
  
But Fritz cut him off, kissing him again. Harder. Not because he wanted anything more from Raeger, but because kissing him was, in and of itself, as satisfying as any meal he could ever be served.  
  
He didn't know how Raeger would feel about any romantic advances at this point—never mind the fact that Rae was still a bit weirded out by the guy thing, this was the _kitchen_. His kitchen. Off-limits to any activities other than cooking, and especially ones that could be categorized as definitely- or eventually-would-be-sexy. Even if that wasn't Fritz's intention.  
  
Slowly, surely, Raeger released his grip on Fritz's wrists. Fritz took the opportunity to drop his arms from the uncomfortable angle they'd been in, folding them upward in front of him and clinging to Raeger's shirt as the kiss deepened. He was, he realized, just as trapped as he'd been previously, if not more so, but at this point it hardly felt like a problem. Raeger's arms around him... yeah, definitely the furthest thing from a problem he could think of.  
  
For all the hesitance Raeger had shown when it came to putting a name to what was between them, he never backed down from the physical aspect of it. Sensuality... that wasn't something Fritz knew a lick about, could even begin to explain. But Raeger made up for Fritz's shortcomings—one of the bajillion reasons Fritz loved him—and didn't need a single word to demonstrate the word's meaning. His lips, then his tongue, had it all covered.  
  
The solid pressure of Raeger's body to Fritz's, the insistence of kisses grew longer, hungrier—this wasn't just making out. It was foreplay.  
  
Or an _extremely_ well-orchestrated distraction. Well, Fritz wasn't about to fall for it! There were still potatoes that needed to be pancake-d, and it wasn't like he couldn't keep smooching Raeger's face off once Annie left for the night.  
  
“I'm serious, Rae,” Fritz gave him a quick kiss, that wasn't remotely serious. “You're not gettin' me out of this kitchen 'less you tie me down.”  
  
“Oh, yeah?” Raeger's fingers, starch-coated and all, wove into Fritz's hair and brought him in for another kiss, one that was barely broken when he murmured, low and beseeching. “I'm pretty sure I can think of another way.”  
  
Okay, yeah, forget his internal proclamation from ten seconds ago—Fritz was going to _gladly_ fall for this distraction.  
  
He didn't know who was steering who as they pushed away from the sink and found their way to the dining room while tangled up in a tousled mess of lips and limbs, of dry gasps and the wet smacking of kisses. The string of Raeger's apron was already coming loose, and Fritz gave it a good yank, let it drop entirely. Heck yeah, one layer off, two to go!  
  
“Man, and here I thought you were mad at me,” Fritz managed, breathless but smiling as he played with Raeger's disheveled hair.  
  
“I am, still. Kind of. Probably will be for the rest of the night.”  
  
“Hehe, you sure aren't kissin' me like it _mmmmph_.”  
  
Raeger's mouth was on him again. Fritz felt something tugging at his neck, then a coarse, sliding sensation as his scarf was whipped off. There was an impact against his chest, and he stumbled back from the kiss and into one of the restaurant's many wooden chairs.  
  
“No?” said Raeger, looking down at Fritz with a glint in his eye that matched the smirk hitching his lips up. “But I could sure fuck you like it.”  
  
Was it possible to spontaneously jizz in your pants? Maybe about as possible as it was for Fritz to be struck silent, but that's what happened as he gaped, wide-eyed, at Raeger. His middle felt hollowed out, a pit, slowly filling with this unnameable _hot_ ache. If he could find the ability to actually move and unzip his pants, he was pretty sure he'd be able to run a flag up his dick, for how stiff he'd suddenly grown.  
  
All they'd done so far were the exploratory, mutual handies, the naked grinding and rubbing and fondling and all that teenager-y crap that Fritz absolutely _loved_. Raeger didn't ever ask for anything beyond that, and they both ended up getting off fairly easily, and sometimes Rae would even let him stay over, and let him be the big spoon! So Fritz was happy—ecstatic, even. Fulfilled, and never complained. It was like the saying went, why fix what wasn't broken?  
  
But apparently instead of wanting to fix what wasn't broken, Raeger wanted to fuck it.  
  
“Close your eyes.” Raeger said, quiet but firm.  
  
Fritz couldn't respond with anything more than a choked “S-Sure.”

What was gonna happen...? Maybe Raeger was gonna heave him up by the shirt and throw him down on the table and bang him there. Damn, that'd be so hot! Almost like what he'd jerk off to, 'cept in those fantasies, he was the one on top. But he didn't care about who was railing who—details, schmetails. If it made Raeger comfortable, then it turned him on!  
  
Or—the thought occurred to him as Raeger began to unbutton Fritz's vest, kissing him with unhurried deliberation—maybe he'd get Fritz ready first by blowing him. Fritz _knew_ (or more, sensed it, like a sixth sense or something) from their previous encounters that Raeger wanted to. It'd just never gotten to that, and Fritz wasn't about to push it, even though he would absolutely lose his mind if Raeger gave him a bj. He assumed Raeger was nervous, since this was his first time with a guy in any way, and like everything else, they would just have to work up to it. But there was an unmistakably pronounced _want_ on Raeger's part, with how he'd always trail his kisses from Fritz's mouth to his neck, shoulder, chest, leaving hickeys and driving Fritz crazy as he did. And every time, Fritz would wonder if he'd dare to go a little further south.

“What'cha doin'?” Fritz rasped out, shifting around in his chair. Goddess, he was afraid he'd come from Raeger just unzipping his pants, at this point.  
  
“You'll see...” Cradling Fritz's face, Raeger lazily ran his thumb over the lips he'd just thoroughly worked with his own.  
  
Sensing where Raeger's other fingers were, Fritz tilted his head and took Raeger's index finger in his mouth, sucking it all the way down and back. “Mmm...” Eyes still closed, he smiled blissfully. “Tastes like french fries.”  
  
Raeger's hand dropped. “...Why do you say things like this? Seriously, are you trying to win a prize for 'quickest way to kill a boner'?”  
  
“What's the prize? Is it... _your dick_ ?”  
  
“Not anymore, it's not,” Raeger said, deadpan.  
  
Fritz's eyes popped open. “Well, damn, what do you want me say! Here gimme your freakin' fingers again!” He snatched Raeger's hand up, and slid not just one but two fingers into his mouth, sucking them with twice as much fervor as before.  
  
“ _Blegh_ , what the—?!”  
  
“Oh yeah, Rae!” Fritz let Raeger's slobbered hand fall away, his lips wet and dribbly. “Let me suck your big, fat, stupid cock like that!”  
  
“Goddess... damn you, Fritz! Now I _am_ mad at you!”  
  
“Good! Then you can fuck me like it!” Fritz shrugged at his opened vest, trying to shuck it off. It wasn't the easiest task, since he was seated and too otherwise incapacitated to stand. His arms twisted behind him, the vest cuffing him at the elbows. “Oh, _for cryin' out loud_ !”  
  
With an exasperated sigh, Raeger moved behind the chair, where Fritz was wrenching this way and that. “Hold still—Fritz, for two seconds! I got it, would you just—!”  
  
Fritz couldn't tell what Raeger was doing, but it was instantly apparent he didn't “have it”, as the vest remained caught on Fritz's arms. What's more, Fritz's wrists were drawn and bound together. “Hey, what's the big idea? What did you—?!”  
  
“There we go.” Raeger stepped away, brushing his hands together with a sense of finality. “All taken care of.”  
  
“T-Taken care of? What're you talking about?!” Fritz lifted one shoulder, then the other. Not only were his wrists tied together, it was with his very own scarf. And that scarf was looped and knotted around the chair itself. “What're you—?! _Raeger_!”

Fritz jostled around in the chair and only succeeded in making it wobble so much that he nearly toppled to the floor. Raeger was the only thing preventing Fritz's fall, shoving Fritz's shoulder to keep him and the chair upright as it began to tip over.  
  
“See,” Raeger said, rounding to stand in front of Fritz. “Now you can admire all your handiwork, too.” He gestured vaguely, at all the balloons and streamers decorating the restaurant. “And _I_ can get back to the kitchen.”  
  
He did so, ignoring Fritz's ranting and raving, and returned to the kitchen sink, where he started washing his hands off with dish soap.  
  
“RAEGER!” Fritz threw himself forward, awkwardly stumbling to his feet. He couldn't straighten up, not with the chair still tied to his wrists and stuck to him like some freaky turtle shell. “What happened to fucking me like you're mad at me?”  
  
“Do you want that, or do you want to help me cook? Make up your mind, Fritz.” Raeger's smile was what Fritz considered pure evil, so smug and amused. “Or I can make you french fries; real ones, that don't taste like fingers.”  
  
“I don't want any of that now, you... you! You lying liar who lies! You can't string a guy along like that!”  
  
“First of all, you were the one who thought it'd be hot to talk about potatoes.” Patting his hands dry on a towel, Raeger continued, “And second, you're the one who said I had to tie you down—”  
  
“It was a metaphor! A hyper-bowl, or—”  
  
“Hy-per-bo-lee,” Raeger corrected, smirking.  
  
“Whatever!” Fritz waddled towards the kitchen, struggling to free his wrists to no avail. The chair thrashed around, its legs knocking into other tables and chairs in his path as he made it to the stools lined up facing the kitchen counter.

Raeger picked up a handful of potato skins from the bowl he'd never emptied, flinging them at Fritz in a futile attempt to stop him from advancing. “Would you watch where you're—!”  
  
“This isn't right, this is a— _pffft!_ ” Fritz spat out a potato skin that'd fallen from his hair and onto his lips, “...a crime! Being held against my will is a felony!”  
  
Raeger's look of skepticism made it clear he was fully aware Fritz was spouting off complete nonsense. “Look, I was just reading the room when I said... all that. Messing with you. You're the one who brought it up—you sounded almost excited about the idea of it. What was I supposed to think, that you didn't mean it... _like that_?”  
  
Fritz froze in place, frustration subsiding and replaced by curiosity. “Nuh-uh, no way! You don't say those things just to mess with someone. It had to come from somewhere. I know all about this kinda stuff, Raeger; I've read three of Iris's novels! Just admit it: you _want_ me tied-up, or tied-down, or just some kinda tied, don'tcha?”  
  
Raeger answered with what was meant to be a threatening glare, but Fritz noticed the tight swallow he forced down. “No. That's not... _No_.”  
  
“Heehee, oh _yeah_ you do. Kinky bastard, aren't ya? Ah, I shoulda known...” Fritz trailed off, affecting a misty tone like he was fondly reminiscing about days gone by. And, maybe just a little, he was. “After what happened after the Fashion Fiesta and all.”  
  
“Fritz, if you don't shut up, I'm gonna gag you with this dishtowel.” Raeger held up the dishtowel in question.  
  
Fritz couldn't stop himself. “Is that a promise?”  
  
The balled-up dishtowel went whizzing right by Fritz's head, barely grazing his ear. Fritz only laughed, hopping from one foot to the other as best he could with a chair stuck to his back. “Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me!”  
  
“Alright, that's it...” Raeger rushed out from behind the counter.  
  
Immediately, Fritz knew it wasn't for a kiss, and didn't have time for anything beyond that realization. Raeger grabbed Fritz—or, more accurately, the chair—and flung him back down to a seated position. Again, the chair teetered back and forth, and Fritz's “Wh-WHOAAH!” was ignored as Raeger snatched up the errant dishtowel.  
  
“Heh, y'know Rae, seein' you all hot—get it, 'cause you're hot?—and bothered, is getting _me_ all hot and— _MMNNPFH!_ ”  
  
A promise was a promise—not that Raeger had ever made it, but Fritz had asked it of him, and he'd followed through. With one swift movement, Raeger had used one hand to hold Fritz still by the hair, and the other to stuff the wadded-up dishtowel into his ever-moving mouth.  
  
Fritz coughed and huffed around it, but found it wasn't difficult to breathe. Not that he cared too much about breathing—it was teasing and kissing Raeger he was more concerned with!  
  
Picking the nearest chair and sliding it over to face Fritz, Raeger took a seat across from him. It was like they were customers here at the restaurant, with enough space for a table between them. The fleeting thought to try and play footsie crossed Fritz's mind, and just as quickly left; he was still adjusting having this gnarly rag shoved in his mouth.  
  
Raeger leaned forward, benign smile on his face. As if casually discussing the set-up to Annie's party, as they'd done over slices of soy milk cake last night.  
  
“You know, for all you're goin' on about me doing all this against your will... let's be honest, Fritz. Nothing that's happened in the past ten minutes has _really_ been against your will, has it?”  
  
Fritz shrugged, like he really didn't have a clue, and the dishtowel made his nonchalant “I'unno” came out as “ _Aiunnhunnnhh._ ”  
  
Raeger lowered his voice, ridding it of its conversational tone. “I'm serious. This is okay with you?”  
  
It was anywhere from “okay” to “fan-flipping-tastic”, judging by the way Fritz's heart sped up and the general area around his stomach coiled tighter and tighter with anticipation. But all he could do was nod, tasting damp fibers as he added in a “ _Nnn-hnn!_ ”  
  
“And this too?” Raeger scooted forward, dragging his chair along, his knees alternating placement between Fritz's. His hand came up to Fritz's jaw, fingertips gently tilting it to expose more of Fritz's neck. Surely, like the rest of him, it was all sweaty and warm right now, but Raeger didn't seem to mind as he slanted his head in and pressed his lips softly to where Fritz's pulse was beating rapidly.  
  
Too soon, Raeger drew back; Fritz hadn't answered, and it was clear in how he was looking at Fritz expectantly that despite the current limitations, he wanted some sort of consent to continue.

Or he was just yanking Fritz's chain... _again_ ! Frickin' jerk-ass cocktease! Practically panting, Fritz looked back at Raeger, desperate. He jerked his head once, a command for Raeger to _keep going_. “ _Please!”_ he begged, which sounded like nothing but a petulant moan.  
  
“Please?” Raeger repeated, not mocking, but in earnest. With his thumb, he wiped off a trail of saliva trickling out the edge of Fritz's mouth.  
  
Fritz was in the midst of nodding frantically when Raeger's hand stationed his head, held it still with fingers cupped around Fritz's chin. Then his kiss returned to Fritz's neck, marking a slow path up to his ear—just like so many times before, but infinitely better.

 _Aaaaannnd_ now he was rock hard again.  
  
Fritz groaned around the dishtowel, feet kicking and scraping at the floor. He'd lost control, with what must have been lightning surging through him, rendering him unaccountable for his body's actions. He wanted to glance sideward at Raeger but instead his eyes were rolling back, fluttering open-shut-open.  
  
This wasn't like Rae, so _present_ in the moment. Most of their bang-time consisted of Fritz doing the bulk of the work, but he absolutely _adored_ being able to bring Raeger even the littlest bit of pleasure and relief. Raeger's response was enough that Fritz knew their arrangement wasn't born from convenience or opportunity, and that for all his protests, he ultimately accepted Fritz showing the full extent of his devotion. Appreciation was always expressed afterwards, be it through words or meals or both.  
  
Then it was Fritz's shirt beneath Raeger's touch. Untucking it from his belted, shabby knickerbockers. Fritz flinched and jerked, hoping he could urge Raeger to go just a _little_ lower. It wasn't until Raeger laughed against his neck that Fritz realized not only was he _physically_ yearning for it, but he'd started begging verbally too—or, as much as he could at this point.  
  
“Let me...?” Raeger asked, though there was a tinge of arrogance to it, that he already knew Fritz's answer, and was just reveling in having the upper hand.  
  
Fritz nodded furiously, a stifled _“Unh-huh_!” accompanying it. He wished desperately he could do more than nod. Could shove Raeger's hands or head or _something_ _anything_ down closer to where he was straining to be freed from the confines of his underwear. Goddess, this wasn't right—what if Rae blue-balled him again? He'd need a doctor, stat, and how would he explain this to Marian?  
  
Carefully, Raeger undid Fritz's belt, then unzipped his pants. Fritz wriggled in place, helping him get them down a bit further, and sighed in relief once he'd sprung free. Through eyes limned with sweat, all he could focus on was Raeger's mouth, lips moving in a whisper at his throat.

“I can't really fuck you, now can I? Mad, or otherwise...” A short, breathy laugh. “But hey, listen... I only went in the kitchen to wash my hands. I wasn't really gonna leave you high and dry—I was just teasing you.”  
  
“ _Duh_!” Fritz growled out, though it sounded like an incoherent moan.  
  
“I'm serious: with this starch on my hands, dry would've been a big problem. Actually, they're still kinda rough.”  
  
_Then use your freakin' mouth!_ Fritz mentally shouted.  
  
Not quite, but almost; Raeger, who preached cleanliness and had told Fritz about fifty times since they met that he was a walking health code violation... _spit_ into his palm. Twice. It was crude, filthy. And really, _really_ friggin' hot. His groin tightening more and more, Fritz was positive he was going to cream his pants right then and there.  
  
Thank Goddess he hadn't—that'd defeat the purpose of Rae lowering his slicked hand and closing it tight.  
  
“Hey...” Raeger guided Fritz's drooping head towards him, to let it rest on his shoulder. He'd never get over it, that he could be this _close_ to Raeger, and his body sank deeper, breath shivery as his hips rocked along with the motion of Raeger's hand.

As much as he liked being the one to give, having Raeger give back was... this went far beyond their past encounters, actual or in Fritz's mind, withdrawn from the spank bank. Real-life hands—warm, deft, relentless, _Raeger's_ —won out every time over his own, or ones imagined.

Oh, he was so close... Graphic images flittered about—of everything he and Raeger had already done... of what Fritz _wanted_ them to do, of what Raeger had basically demanded they do. He whimpered, groaned around the dishtowel, body twitching and jolting as he was sure that just one more, _just one more_ pump of Raeger's hand would send him over the edge...  
  
_WHAM!_

“Hey guys!”  
  
Fritz screamed a muffled scream, once because Annie had come barging in, and again when Raeger shouted “Oh fuck!” and shoved away from Fritz... sending the chair, with Fritz tied to it, crashing to the floor.  
  
The impact loosened the dishtowel from Fritz's mouth, and he hocked it out. Raeger and the table nearby obstructed his view of Annie—all he could see of her, between Raeger's legs, was her taupe Mary Janes and the seashell pink stockings stuck into them.

“H-h-hey, Annie!” Raeger loaded his greeting with false excitement. This went beyond customer service voice—to Fritz, he sounded mildly deranged. “You sure are early! _Wow_ , really early, actually! Not _quiiite_ done with your meal, so if you wanna wait outside, then—!”  
  
“Why is Fritz on the floor?” Annie tried to peer over Raeger's shoulder, but he moved as she did. Fritz noticed, too, that Raeger's right hand was tucked behind his back—as if Annie would be able to tell what it'd just spent the last several minutes doing.  
  
“Fritz?” Raeger peeked back, alarm written all over his face. “ _Oh_ ...yeah, that's Fritz, alright! He's just... he's, um, ah—!”  
  
“Looking for Raeger's apron!” Fritz supplied, as he saw the apron out of the corner of his eye, under the table next to them. “Found it! Holy crap, how'd it get down here?”  
  
“Is he...?” Annie kept trying to get a glimpse of Fritz, and Raeger followed her every move.  
  
“Waiting to wish you a happy birthday? Haha, you bet he is!” Raeger shuffled back, even closer to Fritz and blocking off any view of him between the thighs and chest. “Aren't you, Fritz?”  
  
“Oh yeah! Totally! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANNIE!”

“Ummm... thanks? You told me that twice already today, but, um—”  
  
“Your present is on the counter over there!” Fritz continued over her. “Go look, go look!”  
  
After a moment's hesitation and an “O...kay?”, Annie circled back behind the kitchen, to where the pan full of baklava awaited.  
  
Though Fritz couldn't see it, he could tell Raeger was flashing his most charming smile, just by the energy in his voice. “Hey, it's your birthday—nothin' wrong with having a little dessert first, am I right? When I told you I had an old family recipe to surprise you with, I didn't say it was _my_ family's recipe.”  
  
“Oh...! Oh my gosh, Raeger, I can't—! I just... I can't even—!”  
  
“Hey, but you _can_ even! Go on, dig in—but save a little for us, alright?”  
  
Shoot, he was just so freakin' smooth! Fritz “awwww'd” from the floor, while Annie presumably dug into the baklava; Raeger had turned around and dropped down beside Fritz.  
  
“Oh _Goddess_ , dude, that was so sweet!” Fritz said, emotion choking his words.  
  
“Relax your legs,” Raeger ordered through gritted teeth, reaching for where Fritz was still hanging half-hard out of his pants.  
  
“ _Geez_ Rae, not _now_! Frickin' A, man, just untie me and—”  
  
“Shut up,” Raeger hissed, succeeding in tucking Fritz back into his boxers. “I'm trying to put it _away_ , you moron.”  
  
“ _Ooooooh_ , right, right.”  
  
After zipping his pants up, Raeger loosened Fritz's scarf—it took a few hard yanks; he'd really knotted it up but good—allowing Fritz to get to his feet on his own.  
  
“Hey guys?” Annie called from the kitchen, her words somewhat smothered by bites of baklava.  
  
“Yeah?” Raeger and Fritz said together, as Fritz tried to buckle his belt. It'd never been this loud, or even made any sort of distinguishable sound before. Of course now, he might as well have dropped a whole cupboard full of pans, for how loud the metal frame and prong clanged. Only after he closed it did he realize he'd left his shirt partially untucked, the left side of it hanging down past his hip.  
  
“I'm not stupid, I know what you were up to—or trying to get up to.”  
  
Fritz's first instinct was to make sure Rae didn't pass out, collapse. He didn't.

Raeger did, however, take a step backwards, reaching behind him to grip the table for support. “We weren't—!” he started, stopping almost instantly when Annie rolled her eyes using her whole head.  
  
“Don't worry, it's not like I'm gonna run around town, yelling at the top of my lungs what I just saw—almost saw, whatever. Like, sure, I wish I _wouldn't_ have walked in and interrupted you, but I guess it's karma; Iris walked in on Mistel and me fooling around last week.”  
  
“ _Ewwwrgh_ !” Fritz blanched at the thought—and not quietly enough that Raeger didn't give him sidelong reproach.  
  
Annie, thankfully, either didn't hear him or didn't mind—or she was reminiscing too fondly of her time with Mistel. Gross!  
  
She giggled softly, adding, “It's nothing to be ashamed of. These things happen when you're a couple.”  
  
There it was. The word that Fritz and Raeger had danced around for a season and a half. How unfair was it for Annie to be the one to slap the label on them, when Raeger himself wasn't certain?  
  
Fritz would have gladly fessed up to such an accusation. But he was going to respect Raeger's wishes, the best he could. “What're you talkin' about?! We're a couple of what?”  
  
“Idiots,” Raeger supplied plainly. “We're a couple of idiots.”  
  
“Who also happen to _be_ a couple,” Annie stated, unable to suppress a grin, one that Fritz returned. The way she said it made it sound so... _good_! Like it was just the way of the world: the sky was blue, Spring came after Winter, and Fritz and Raeger were together.  
  
Raeger didn't confirm it, but he also didn't deny it. All he could muster was a lame, “I'm going to uh... wash my hands.”  
  
Dang, Annie could really be relentless, but then again, what else was to be expected of a chick who could keep up with Mistel?  
  
“Psh, who cares about what's goin' on with Rae and me?” Fritz waved a hand dismissively, even though he knew the answer: _he_ did. “We're here for _you_ tonight _,_ Annie. For your par-har-tay!”  
  
“If she still _wants_ the party,” Raeger said, as if she wasn't right there by him as he slipped past her to the sink.  
  
“Um, exc _usssehh mweh_?” She asked around another piece of baklava.  
  
“Well, just what I asked: Do you still _want_ to have your party? Like, it's not too weird that you... y'know, almost saw stuff or anything?”  
  
Her hands flapped as she chewed and swallowed faster than even Fritz himself was capable of. “Are you kidding? I've been dreaming of this for weeks! Nothing can ruin my appetite now, not even almost seeing Fritz's dick.”  
  
“My dick does not ruin appetites!” Fritz shouted across the restaurant. “Raeger, tell her! Tell her my—”  
  
“Both of you, just—!” Raeger switched off the faucet, staring daggers at Fritz. “Go talk about dicks somewhere else. _Please_. I still gotta make the French Toast, so it'll be a little while. And the potato pancakes... Omelet's almost done though...” At this point he was just talking to himself. Fritz had seen him do this a bunch of times when preparing to open the restaurant, mentally cataloging everything that still needed to be done before business hours, and he'd always make a habit of listing it all out loud. Now that he was used to it, Fritz found it pretty adorable.  
  
“We'll leave you alone, Raeger. Promise.” Annie made a crossing motion over her heart that he didn't seem to notice, with how fixated he was on readying the eggs and bread for the French Toast. “Let the master to his craft.”  
  
Raeger mumbled something affirmative, and Annie gave the baklava one last forlorn look before backing out of the kitchen. She beckoned for Fritz to join her at one of the tables. Fritz almost apologized, again, but she wasn't showing any residual effects from what she'd witnessed upon her grand entrance, so he decided to let it slide. Besides, it seemed like Rae was embarrassed enough for everyone here. At least, Fritz thought, he had the meal to distract him from it, something to do while letting the unease recede.  
  
They'd only just seen each other a couple days ago, at the New Year's Eve Festival, but Annie had a ton to catch Fritz up on. Other than her steamy misadventures with Mistel, Annie reported how she'd finally come across Golden Strawberry seeds, and how excellent her dogs had become at herding her llamas (both of which she maintained were cuter than Fritz's). Fritz listened, enraptured, feeling kinda sheepish about how his only bout of excitement had come from catching a fish big enough to last him more than one meal (half of it was still in Raeger's refrigerator).  
  
The only pause in conversation was when Annie went to the kitchen—was allowed in, despite suspicion cast her way from Raeger. She gave him a fluttery little wave and proceeded to dig some Peach Wine out of the fridge. Mixing the wine with club soda to make some fizzy-looking thing, she dropped a ripe cherry into its effervescence.  
  
When she returned, Fritz had her present waiting at her place. He was about ready to bounce out of his boots, as he watched her take another swig of wine, then set it aside to open the box.  
  
Her eyes popped wide, amber shining brighter than the ring she plucked out. “Oh, Fritz, this is so pretty!... Wait, where did you get this?”  
  
“Get? Nah, man, I _made_ it. I'm a pretty handy guy, I'll have you know.”  
  
Giggling, she placed the ring back into its box. “I'll find a chain for it later—better than wearing it on my hands while farming. And _trust me_ , I already know. Raeger's told me.”  
  
“Raeger wouldn't...!” Wouldn't what? Fritz knew how close Raeger and Annie were—he was fairly certain Raeger had even had a crush on her for a while, when she first moved to town. Because of that, they'd grown almost inseparable—but was it really to the extent that Raeger would tell her about being into dudes? Fritz, specifically?  
  
She glanced over her shoulder, ensuring Raeger wasn't paying them any mind—and he wasn't, too focused on slicing strawberries and checking the potato pancakes frying away on the stove. Regardless, she dropped her voice and leaned towards Fritz in a conspiring manner.  
  
“Seriously? He mentions you a _lot_ , even when I don't bring you up. Like not going on and on or anything, but just like how you tried a new recipe of his, or like when you were gonna come by for the Starlight Gala the other week. I'm sure he thinks he's not being obvious, but it's _so_ obvious, he gets this look—well, he looks almost like _you_ do, when you talk about him, maybe a little less goofy—whenever you're brought up. Even if he's talking about something 'dumb' you did, I can tell— _anyone_ could tell he's got it bad for you.”  
  
“He...” Relief, in the form of a smile, washed over Fritz. “He really does, doesn't he?”  
  
“He's crazy about you. I think he's just... nervous. That he won't be able to show it the way you do. You intimidated him—he told me that.”  
  
“Whoa, hold the phone, _I_ intimidate _him_ ?”  
  
Annie sipped at her drink with a coy smile and gave a shrug. “Why don't you _ask_ him sometime.”  
  
“Ask me what?” Raeger was on his way over, serving tray loaded with three plates stacked full of deliciousness.  
  
It was like a masterpiece from a museum, the meal in varying hues of gold with its crispy potato pancakes, fluffy omelette, and decadent French Toast piled high with strawberries and whipped cream. The smell hit him, like a garden that'd teamed up with a bakery then got in a fight with a spice rack—in other words, amazeballs!  
  
“Oh, you remembered!” Annie plucked off one of the strawberry slices and popped it in her mouth. “Goddess, this is like a little piece of heaven—where'd you get strawberries like this?”  
  
“This little place up the road, you might have heard of it? Farmy Farm?” After three years, Raeger was finally able to say the name of Annie's property without cringing—though barely. “What did you want to ask me, Fritz?”  
  
“Um, if I could have... apples! I mean, strawberries are nummy, but nothing like tart crunchy apples with cinnamony French Toast, y'know?”  
  
“Not your birthday, not your choice.” Annie teased, digging in to the omelet then moaning appreciatively.  
  
“Yeah,” Raeger agreed. “But soon, right? You can have anything you want.”  
  
“ _Annnnnyyy_ fing?” Fritz held Raeger's gaze, smirking as mischievously as he could with a mouthful of potato pancakes.  
  
Raeger took a seat next to Annie; Fritz could see the small tic of his lips, that he was trying (and failing) to not be amused. Annie had a hand to her mouth, trying to prevent food from spitting everywhere as she shook with giggles.  
  
But Raeger was surprisingly calm and innuendo-free when he answered—in front of Annie, no less, “Yeah, Fritz. For you, anything.”

* * *

Dinner—breakfast, whatever it was, was superb. Fritz wanted to stuff himself silly, but it would be more thoughtful to allow Annie to have anything extra—and it wasn't like Rae wasn't gonna cook for him anytime soon. He'd get his fill in a couple days, but between now and then, the idea of warm, soft-and-fluffy-as-a-cloud, apple-topped french toast was going to torture him, haunt his dreams.

Annie was an absolute joy, indulging in another mixed drink as she regaled the guys about her latest trip to safari—her first one with Mistel. His phobia of birds had carried over upon meeting the giant Spoonbill that strutted around the Safari's east end, and he'd nearly fainted when, after significant goading from Annie, he'd fed it a fresh fish that she'd caught there at the pond. The spoonbill, conversely, was now under the impression it had a lifelong friend in Mistel.  
  
She made Raeger, and especially Fritz, promise not to tease him—too much. Fritz thought it really said something, that Mistel would overcome his fears (or, at least try to) for Annie's sake, and told her as much. He suggested to Raeger that they go there someday, maybe even next Wednesday when Raeger had off, and feed the animals too—maybe what they needed to become fond of Fritz was some Grade-A cooking, and Raeger's definitely fit the bill!  
  
“I'm supposed to see him tonight,” Annie said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “You know, he even paid for Iris to stay overnight in the city so we'd have the house to ourselves. He said he has something 'special' planned, but who even knows what _that_ means...”  
  
“Haha, I bet _I_ know what it means,” Fritz said.  
  
“That she's gonna hold his hand,” said Raeger drily.  
  
“Yeahhh, that's not _all_ she's gonna hold!” Fritz looked between the two of them. “She'll hold the baklava too, as she feeds it to him! Right, Annie?”  
  
“I mean, if you guys are fine with me taking it...”  
  
“Of course. It's all yours; you said you wanted him to try it,” said Raeger. “And everything else we can keep here, then you can stop by tomorrow if you want. And bring Mistel along, too. Hopefully he's okay with leftovers, but...”  
  
“Your leftovers are twice as good as anyone else's freshly-made meals,” Annie replied. _  
  
Hey_, Fritz thought. _Why hadn't I thought of a line like that_?  
  
Still, Raeger's crooked smile, the little flick of his eyes as if to say, well, _yeah—_ Fritz was fine to settle for not being the one to cause it.  
  
“And while we're ordering things to go, you wouldn't mind if I bring the rest of that bottle of Peach Wine along, would you?”  
  
“I dunno, if you do something wild on account of being hammered from alcohol from _my_ establishment... That's not gonna look good for me.”  
  
“But it's _my_ wine!” Annie protested. “Remember? I gave it to you when I first built my winery, before I knew you didn't like it. And my guess is it's been sitting in your fridge ever since. For a special occasion, and what's more special than this?”  
  
“ _Well..._ ” Raeger started.  
  
“Well, nothin'! You're not gonna drink it... and it's not just for me, it's for Mistel too!”  
  
“Is he even old enough to— _OW_!” Fritz leaned down to rub his shin where Annie had kicked it.  
  
“Alright, alright. You can take the wine, too. Just, you know... drink responsibly.”  
  
Annie sprung up from her seat, happily heading to the kitchen to collect the wine and baklava, which Raeger helped her box up. It didn't get past Fritz that he and Rae wouldn't get to try a single bite of it, but that just meant another thing to add to the list, of what Fritz would have to help Raeger make in the future, for the two of them to try.  
  
“You guys are the best, putting this all together. I'll never forget it.” Annie gave Raeger a one-arm hug, then Fritz. “I better get going though,” she said, looking up at Fritz. “I'd like to go have sex with my boyfriend, and you can finish having it with yours.”  
  
Raeger drew in a sharp breath, staggered away like he'd been punched in the gut.  
  
Fritz, meanwhile, whooped and held up a flattened hand for Annie to high-five. “Aw yeah, alright! Go get lucky! Oh, but wait thirty minutes after eating before strenuous activities!” He had no idea if that applied solely to swimming. Guess both he and Annie would have the chance to find out.  
  
“Will do!” She high-fived him. “Happy birthday to _me_! Oh, and thanks again for the ring!”  
  
After Annie left, Raeger set to clearing off the tables and storing the leftovers. Fritz readily volunteered to do the dishes—he knew how much Raeger hated it, and besides, it'd give him an excuse to stay. Talk to Rae about what they'd only scratched the surface of earlier. And well, he'd be lying if he wasn't wishing for things to continue from where they left off, but it was hard to get horned up again when Raeger looked so solemn, distant.  
  
Raeger had settled in once he'd gotten over the initial shock of Annie's early arrival, and so the only thing Fritz could chalk his mood up to was what'd Annie brought up more than once, even more blunt than Fritz usually did. Sure, he'd seemed accepting of it, but that could have just been saving face, not wanting such a personal topic brought up when in the midst of celebrating a friend's birthday. That, or he was anxious Annie might blab about what she saw—or, did he regret it entirely, not just because Annie saw it?  
  
“Hey,” Fritz said after several minutes of silence, “At least she doesn't know _everything_ that went on. She's right though, you know? Who cares what she almost-saw? All's well that end's well! You don't gotta worry about her telling anyone.”  
  
“I'm _not_ worried—not really, I guess.” Raeger handed Fritz the omelette pan, caked in dried eggy bits. “At least it was Annie. I know I—we—can trust her not to say anything. But... if she goes around telling people we're _together_ , that wouldn't... be the worst thing.”  
  
“It wouldn't?”  
  
“No. Although I'd rather be the one to say it—or let you do it, I know you'd like that, huh?”  
  
“It's not just about what _I_ like, Raeger, you know that. I want you to be alright with it—consent is important! We don't gotta tell everyone, or anyone at all. I know I joke around and say the whole world's gotta know how much I care about you, but if you're not ready, then I don't wanna—” Fritz cut himself off. Dang, if he said what he almost did, then Rae would _know_ they'd been more-or-less gossiping about him.  
  
“What?” Raeger ventured. “You don't wanna what?”  
  
“Overwhelm you. Remember when you asked if I had anything to ask me? That's what it was, that's what Annie said you kind of hinted to her. That I overwhelm you,” Fritz said, rinsing off a syrupy plate. “So like, maybe it _isn't_ okay. Yeah, I know she said we were a couple, but if you're not ready, then...”  
  
Raeger didn't answer straight away. He sighed softly, took the frying pan from where it was sticking precariously out of the sink, and went it at vigourously with a steel wool scrub.  
  
“Okay, sure. Sometimes, you can. Overwhelm me, I mean. It's not... _bad_ , but it's just... look, Fritz. You make it clear, all the time, how you feel about me. What you think of me.”  
  
“That you're the best? The _man_. The man, who happens to be _my_ man, too?”  
  
“Yeah. All that. It's... really _nice_ , seriously. I'm not saying it's not. But— and this isn't your fault, but—I've been burned before. Moving too fast.”  
  
“You think we're moving too fast?” If anything, Fritz thought they were moving too slow. Not sexually, of course, but just like, couple-ly. Romantically.  
  
“I don't know. Maybe? Or, comparably, yeah. I gotta say, I haven't _felt_ this way so quickly about someone.”  
  
Fritz dropped the spatula he was holding. Soap suds splashed everywhere. “You... _feel_ a... a way about me?”  
  
Raeger was smiling now—a small one, that he was biting his lip to fight from becoming wider. “If Annie made it sound like you 'overwhelm' me, then I'm hoping she also told you the rest. Remember you asked why I was so hellbent about not letting you help make her meal?”  
  
“I definitely do!”  
  
“It's because I like it when it's you and me, cooking for _us_. Just us. Not for anyone else, not even Annie or Lillie or whoever. That's why I didn't want you to help—because when we cook together, it's like our own special thing, and I didn't want to share it. Share you. It means too much to me.”  
  
“I thought it was 'cause you didn't trust me, or... well, because you didn't _like_ like me.”  
  
“C'mon, of course I like you. _Like_ like you. And being able to cook with you... I've never had that, with anyone I've dated before. Someone who really wants to cook _with_ me, and enjoys it, not because of the food—” Raeger paused, laughed. “Well, I guess because of the food, but also because you genuinely like doing it with me and get why it's such a big deal to me.”  
  
“Why didn't you just tell me that in the first place?”  
  
“I didn't know how. And honestly, I was trying to focus on making the meal. Also, you were kinda being a dumbass.”  
  
“So it's _not_ just about the sex!”  
  
“ _No_. No offense, but if I just wanted someone to fool around with, I wouldn't have to look too hard.”  
  
“Oh yeah, no kidding! You're a real ladykiller. The Don Juan of Oak Tree Town, that's what they call ya!”  
  
“Nobody calls me that,” said Raeger, trying to sound annoyed but smirking all the same.  
  
“Can I call you that?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“What about Rae-boy the playboy?”  
  
“ _No_ , Fritz, I swear—”  
  
“What about—!” Fritz pulled his hands from the sink, spattering soap all over Raeger's shirt as he yanked him close. “My boyfriend. Can I call you _that_?”  
  
Raeger sighed. “Yes. Yes, you can call me _that_.”  
  
Common sense told Fritz he should stop while he was ahead. Which is why he plowed right on. “What about your _lovvvverr_ , your one-and-only, your sugar-pie honeybunch!”  
  
“You're _trying_ to piss me off, aren't you? Get me good and mad?” It was crystal clear what Raeger was referring to, and Fritz had to hand it to him—he didn't think Rae would be in the mood after everything that'd gone down, but then again, maybe Fritz's sheer animal magnetism was too much for Raeger to resist.  
  
“Nah, wasn't thinking it at all, not for a single second. I know that ship has sailed.”  
  
“Ship?”  
  
“Yeah, the ship where you fuck me like you're mad at me.” Fritz made a motion like he was pulling the cord to ring a boat's bell. “Ding, ding, all aboard! S.S. Poundtown, leaving the do _-oomffph!_ ”  
  
Raeger slammed his hand firmly over Fritz's mouth. “Fritz, _please_. Stop talking. Just...” Reluctantly, he lowered his hand to reveal Fritz's grin still intact, and smiled back. “I'm sure... _very sure_ that there will come a day in the future where I'm mad at you, and maybe then we can... take it from there.”  
  
“'lrighty then.” Fritz wrapped his arms around Raeger, held him close. “But what about now?”  
  
“Now? Well...” Raeger didn't try to writhe out of Fritz's hold—if anything, he seemed to relax in it. “We could pick up where we left off—er, sort of, anyway. If you wanna go upstairs. 'Stead of me fucking you like I'm mad at you, I could jerk you off like I'm sorry about making you think I was second-guessing... _us._ Next best thing, right?”  
  
Fritz's arms only tightened. “Nah, it's good all around, no matter what we do. _You're_ the best thing, Raeger. My _favorite_ thing! Oh, oh, you know, if you don't want me to use the word 'boyfriend', then—"

“Fritz, I already said it's cool, you can call me th—"

“No, listen! How 'bout instead, you're just 'my favorite thing'? 'Cause you are!”  
  
Raeger tensed slightly, seemed a bit perplexed at Fritz's statement. Maybe he'd overstepped again—like Rae had said earlier, this _was_ moving fast for him...  
  
But then, the only thing moving _fast_ was Raeger kissing him.  
  
And, as always, it devolved into a heavy make-out session.  
  
Goddess, forget wanting to get laid, he could just kiss Raeger—let Raeger _kiss him—_ all night and die happy. How was he supposed to go upstairs after this, when he was sure everything inside him had melted, made all gooey and squishy like fondue sauce?  
  
“ _Geez_ ,” Fritz finally came up for air, knowing he must be red in the face, with how flushed Raeger was himself. They'd staggered out of the kitchen, had made their way over near the stairs. “What'd you put in that omelette? Oysters? Hey, where are you—?”  
  
Raeger had separated from Fritz, hurrying over to the front door of the restaurant. He locked it, then double-, triple-checked that it was indeed locked.

“Awright!” Fritz threw his arms around Raeger's neck, primed to kiss him into oblivion. “Now where were we?”  
  
Raeger steered them towards the staircase. “The best part—where I kiss you like I love you.”  
  
He promptly followed through, as they pushed, pulled, stumbled and tripped their way up the stairs. And while Fritz had sworn up and down that nothing would ever replace Raeger as his absolute, most favorite thing in the world, he was pretty sure he'd just found the thing that beat it.  
  
Knowing Raeger loved him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic based on in game dialogue. During Fritz's yellow flower event, Raeger makes a comment to Fritz about how he wants to "take the hankie you cried into and gag you with it." lmao why do I feel Fritz's flower events focus just as much on him and Raeger and him and Mistel than they do with him and the Player Character?
> 
> Happy Birthday, Yoru! I know, just what you always wanted, two dudes fcking in a restaurant. Aren't I a pal? I'm sorry (not really) that Fritz is completely insane. You deserve better than these two dodos but too bad. :P
> 
> Thank you Neil for the discussion about starchy potato hands! It really helped my fic when it was in the WIP stage! <3
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated <3


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